Up & Coming 

THURSDAY 1/5

DANAVA, SNOW FOXXES, HISTORY OF THE FUTURE

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Troubleman Unlimited Records' Danava play all the best parts of Black Sabbath's death booze with plenty of tripped-out noise squalor and spooky, wailing, freaky vocals. Snow Foxxes are a big psyche-rock mushroom cloud that's got just enough fingers in '60s acid-rock to make their stuff feel oldish, while keeping most all other appendages thrusting deliriously into 2006's noise-damaged indie scene. Both are from Portland. ADAM GNADE

children of the revolution

(Tube/Food Hole, 18 NW 3rd, 20 NW 3rd) Like Alien vs. Predator, downtown venues Tube (21+) and Food Hole (all ages) are climbing into the ring to entertain the holy hell out of you. But instead of fighting to the death and spraying Gwar-ian gore all over the walls, they're throwing a great art hanging/party/rock show/comedy thing/booze fest that spans both venues and includes more action than the complete Steven Seagal filmography. Bands include the Shaky Hands and Show Me the Pink; Church of the Force will be doing standup comedy/spoken word; DJs Nightschool, Neighborhood DJ, and Hunky Professor Type will be laying black wax to slip-mats; and artists 333 Empire (Kevin Darquien), Mikey McKennedy, and Yoni Kifle are showing their goodies. So, really, I guess this is more like when other TV characters would guest star on the Love Boat or Fantasy Island. That was a good time. AG

FRIDAY 1/6

SLEEPYTIME GORILLA MUSEUM, SECRET CHIEFS 3

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Marilyn Manson's always been a huge letdown for me. He's a smart, articulate, interesting guy; he talks a lot of big stuff about art, and then when his records drop they're fucking wimpy and boring and sound like every other crap basket he's given us. Last album of his was supposed to be influenced by absinthe, cabaret-era Berlin, Hollywood in the '30s, and vaudeville—all good things. I read something he'd written about it on his website and was like, "Dude! Finally!" I figured it'd be his standard industrial goth rock, but weirded up with elements of spooky, archaic German ballroom music, burlesque drama, old timey instruments—more like some of the darker shit Tom Waits has done, or like Dresden Dolls with pop radio hooks. I figured this'd be the one; his first record that'd rise above all the talk and hype and good (yet doomed) intentions. Then The Golden Age of Grotesque came out, and it was just another hackneyed, middling Marilyn Manson P.O.S. Which is to say, forget Manson; Sleepytime Gorilla Museum is what Scare-ilyn would probably sound like if he didn't spend more time on his makeup than his music. AG See also Music, pg. 13., and Prize Fight, pg. 46.

SATURDAY 1/7

SUICIDE CLUB W/CHROMATICS

(Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) Aggh... enough with the '80s already! Seriously! This new millennial wave of New Order worshippers was genuinely entertaining for awhile but now the whole retro movement has descended into overkill as it dominates mainstream radio, VH1 TV spots, and teenage fashion trends. Seattle's Chromatics, while mixing a perfectly adequate cocktail of drum machines, melodramatic wailing, and plundered Christian Death bass-lines, fall flat as they dissolve into the current pop culture ether. Sorry dudes, but a lot of us are going to need a few years before we can stomach the real deals anymore, let alone a never-ending legion of modern replicas. JOSH BLANCHARD

SUNDAY 1/8

RIVER CITY BLUEGRASS FESTIVAL

(Oregon Convention Center, 777 NE MLK) Bluegrass might seem like an easy target for some of you would-be urban hipsters, your minds filled with two-dimensional stereotypes of banjo-plucking, Skoal-chewin' bumpkins in 10-gallon hats. Bluegrass, however, is one of the true American art forms, beautifully defined by deep traditionalism, soaring harmonies, and high-speed precision playing that could rightfully be described as "shredding." Loyalists attending this weekend's River City Bluegrass Festival will likely be disappointed that the genre's giant, Earl Scruggs, has dropped off the bill due to medical reasons (the man is 81, after all!), but his oversized shoes will be suitably filled by old timers like J.D Crowe and Ricky Skaggs, as well as reverent newbies like the Yonder Mountain String Band. JB

MONDAY 1/9

THE CAN'T SEE, MINMAE

(Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) If you were waiting for yet another Mercurial endorsement to go check out a Minmae show, it just popped up in my inbox: Says the band's singer, Sean Brooks, "We played a house show last night in Northeast. Peter Buck of REM was there, checked out our set, and purchased five of our CDs. Holy effin' shit!" Holy effin' shit, indeed. The Can't See, a kickass band with John Atkins of 764-Hero fame, headlines this one. Just go. If you don't have a good time, email me, and let the shit-talk fly. AG

GREG DAVIS AND SEBASTIEN ROUX, STRATEGY, PLANTS, BIRD SHOW, E*ROCK

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) If the 18-year-old punk rock version of me knew I was listening to a trippy, new age-y, ambient song called "Sea Grasses and Blue Sea" right now by two un-punk dudes called Greg Davis and Sebastien Roux, he'd probably jump out of the past and try to kick my ass. BUT I'd kick his ass because (1) The Davis/Roux record is incredible, and (2) the 18-year-old me listens to the Sex Pistols un-ironically. Which is not to say this is a hippie apologist write up; I don't give a fuck. The music on Davis and Roux's new one is staggeringly beautiful, full of breathy guitar chime and watercolored background noise (field recordings, static sounds, mechanized whispers, etc.) that comes across like a mix between the Album Leaf and the great Akron/Family. Still, just when it gets too pretty, the NOIZE comes out and fugs everything up with pulsating walls of groaning, grunting electro dissonance. The album's called Paquet Surprise. It's out on Car Park Records. Pure goodness. AG

tuesday 1/10

Go fish.

WEDNESDAY 1/11

BOY EATS DRUM MACHINE, SIMPL, PAINT AND COPTER

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) With its groove-heavy, funked-up beats and yowling howl, Boy Eats Drum Machine is the Prince—as in "Purple Rain"—of Portland IDM. And maybe someday it'll be its prince—as in crown prince of 'em all—but right now the potential royal is still an up and comer. Which is why the group fits perfectly in a Mercury Up and Coming! (See how this works?) Their CD Pleasure is a big, complex electro-pop rocker with drums that skate between hiphop and post-rock while shifty bass slinks down booze alley, and singer Jonny Ragel's soulful, dead-serious voice switches between a gravely croon and a great, tremulous falsetto. AG

CHEVRON, KICKBALL, WE QUIT, GHOST TO FALCO

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) On their MySpace page, Kickball site their influences as "People we are in love with, people we have huge crushes on, people we are in drama with, vegetables, storms, ants, films, going on tour, chickens, France, Costa Rica, Hawaii, rocks, pebbles, bikes." Their songs posted are more Tim Kinsella influenced, as in Tim's latest band, Make Believe—tight, dark-toned, compact little songs with indierock guitar and bass pretending to be jazz guitar and bass—in a good way—and a singer whose yelp punctuates and punches above the swelling, jittery mess. I have a feeling these guys are really kickass live. AG

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